


The Scientist

by onlyweknow



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Post-Reichenbach, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-26
Updated: 2012-03-26
Packaged: 2017-11-02 13:50:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/369680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyweknow/pseuds/onlyweknow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John was so alone, and now that he's had a taste of the opposite, it's quite harder to go back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scientist

**Author's Note:**

> A short fill from Tumblr, inspired by the song "The Scientist" by Coldplay.

“I can’t do this anymore, Sherlock.”

He’s standing at the gravesite where exactly 3 months ago, his best friend, Sherlock Holmes, was buried. No, best friend isn’t the correct term. It can’t possibly sum up exactly what they were to each other. What he still is to John. He’s tried so hard to move on, to live like he did before he met him. But it’s like the day they met, they became one complete human being. And now that a part of them has been ripped away, it is impossible for the other to continue.

Even now, the weight baring down on his chest and shoulders is impossible to hold anymore. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a glass bottle, containing one slim pill. Lestrade would kill him if he found out he stole something from the evidence locker, but he wasn’t going to give him the chance. This was the easiest way, the quickest way. He needed to be with him again, because without Sherlock, he was just another veteran. Someone to pity, to look down upon. His eyes slowly rose back up to the words on the grave stone, his mouth dry as a desert. Before he left, he needed to say what he didn’t get the chance to before.

“I was never like you, you know. I’m ordinary. I can’t look at a person and tell their life story. I can’t just turn off my feelings or hide them away where they can’t be seen. I cared about you so bloody much, and I never even got to tell you. I just wanna go back to the start, the beginning. Running around London and solving cases with you. Listening to your ignorant babbling and letting you insult the piss out of me. You said sentiment was a characteristic found on the losing side, and you were right.”

His hand twisted around the cap of the bottle. “Nobody said it was going to be easy,” he whispered as the tears hit the ground, “but I didn’t think it was going to be so hard.”

“You’re wrong, you know.”

John whipped around at the voice behind him. The familiar baritone, the long coat. The scarf blowing through the gentle breeze between them. His hair was a bit shorter now, lighter, but it was completely and undeniably him.

“You said you’re ordinary. You’re far from it, John. You always have been.”

His head was spinning, his heart pounding. But there was one thing on his mind, one perfect thought he believed would never cross it again.

“You’re alive.”


End file.
